The Girl in the Green Sweater (#2).

The Girl in the Green Sweater (#2)

by james bezerra

The Girl in the Green Sweater

who wore a fanny pack,

because she just didn’t give a shit

- in that way that only the recklessly beautiful can ever truly not give a shit –

once wrote to me

from Florida where,

she said, she was in love

and rode her bike

everywhere

because everyplace was downhill.

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Girl in the Green Sweater.

Girl in the Green Sweater

by james bezerra

Girl in the green sweater

who did

that great thing where

she laid next to me drunk,

blue bulb bedroom,

where she held her cigarette

out to

my lips

and I just

do nothing but breathe

and puff and blink

and want her

not to go.

Her breasts

and the metal through her lip.

She didn’t even speak.

Her gravity well body, Marlboro smoke,

her smirk,

the sound of her ripped black nylon thighs sliding against each other

when she

crossed and uncrossed

her legs,

this is all

wicked, mean foreplay.

Propped on an elbow over me,

watching me

wanting her.

Almost knowing

she is giving

me this moment

before running her tongue across

my lips

without

even dropping her cigarette.

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